


Snuffed

by Bronnwyn



Series: Kastle One-Shots [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 02:29:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6355261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bronnwyn/pseuds/Bronnwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karen Page is tired of being tired. So is Frank Castle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snuffed

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic I wrote in 30 minutes. I'm trash for this ship. I suppose you could say this is a continuation of "Get One Free." Enjoy.

“You scared the _hell out of me_ ,” she said.

Cue that _hmph_ noise he made whenever he wanted to laugh but couldn’t quite get himself to do it. “Sorry.”

Blowing out a breath, she opened the door further to let him in, then bent down to pick up the remote. Frank got there before her, big fingers curling around the hunk of plastic. He surrendered it with his usual impassiveness, and she took it with only a smidge of annoyance.

Once they were both inside, she ventured to ask what he was doing here. She figured he’d be off, y’know…doing whatever it was Frank Castle did in his free time. She couldn’t be sure if the vigilantism counted. Maybe he visited animal shelters. Walked the dogs, pet the cats.

Now there’s a nice mental image for you.

Frank rubbed the back of his neck. He only _just_ entered her apartment. Just enough so that she could shut the door behind him. “If you wanna get to bed or somethin’, I can leave.”

There was a moment. A brief, uncontrollable moment in which her exhausted brain jumped to a conclusion he surely didn’t mean. It didn’t even involve sex. But it was intimate enough for her to blush at the thought. She turned toward her meager kitchen so he wouldn’t notice. “No, it’s fine. I was just, um…” She glanced around for something to talk about. Coffee pot. There we go. Frank liked coffee. “You want some coffee?”

His answer arrived after a painfully long pause. “Sure.”

She got the pot percolating, retrieved a couple of mugs from the cabinet to her left. She could feel Frank looming. That’s what he did. He _loomed_. He wasn’t capable of simply _standing._ Standing was too easy for the big, bad Punisher. No. He loomed. He loomed and he was staring right at her. She didn’t need to look at him to know that.

But she decided to look at him anyway. Her hands gripped the side of the counter. “Was there something else you needed?” She asked. “Or is this more of a social call?”

Part of her hoped it was the second one. Darkness begot darkness. It might have been easier if he just needed something from her, offhand, but…She’s never been inclined toward easy. When she was ten, she climbed up the tallest tree she could find just because the boy down the road told her she couldn’t.

By God, she did it. She got stuck after a while, but before the realization of _being_ stuck settled in, she remembered looking out at her tiny town and marveling at how vast the world was. Vermont, with its rolling hills and picturesque valleys, suddenly seemed huge.

When the fire department got her down, safe in the arms of her mother, Karen also remembered crying. Not because she’d been stuck in a giant tree, but because the majesty had gone away. Evaporated in the autumn chill.

The world was small again. She hated feeling small.

Frank hadn’t moved from his spot by the door. “Second one, I guess.”

Smiling in spite of herself, she motioned to the couch. Old thing. From a thrift store not far from here. It got the job done, though. “You can sit, you know.”

He blinked at her, then he lumbered over and he sat. The couch squeaked quietly underneath his weight. She sat next to him. Pulled off her shoes. The Get One Free pair. Once that was done, she sat back against the cushions. Closed her eyes.

That in and of itself was an honesty. She closed her eyes with Frank Castle—the man many branded a psychopathic murder—mere inches away. It was fine. He’d never hurt her. She knew that now.

“Long day?” He asked.

She laughed, still not opening her eyes. “Yeah. I think they’ve all been long. For weeks, it’s one thing after another.” Frank did this to her. He got her talking until she couldn’t stop. “I’m just…I’m exhausted, you know? All the time. Every second of every minute of every day, and I just—…”

Silence settled between them like a heavy blanket. She opened her eyes. Unbidden tears rolled out. She sniffed, tried wiping at them before they could fall. Once again, Frank beat her to it.

His thumb brushed along the curve of her cheekbone, startlingly gentle. She froze underneath his touch. Social call. This was a social call.

Frank, too, froze. He frowned at his own hand like he couldn’t believe what it had done, and he pulled away, clasping both hands between his knees. “I know.”

It was her turn to blink at him. She forced herself to stop crying, not having the foggiest idea as to why she’d started in the first place. “You know what?”

“Bein’ tired,” he said. “Bein’ so god damn tired that you can’t even…”

He trailed away.

The blank look on his face deterred her from pressing him to continue. Some doors needed to stay shut. For a time, at least. Frank didn’t lie to her. He’d tell her eventually. He always did. Unlike some people.

She didn’t want to think about Matt right now. She pushed him out of her mind, drawing her long legs up to hug them against her chest. So god damn tired.

Silence, that heavy blanket, returned. The coffee pot mumbled testily in their wake. Karen felt herself starting to drift. Her mind flitted from thought to thought, from moment to moment. Restless, relentless, exhausted. It was only a matter of time before the exhaustion won out.

Hours later, sunlight stirred her from a dream. She was back in that tree. She wasn’t ten anymore. Instead, she was the woman who killed Wesley. She looked down at her hands and saw his blood and she shrieked and she fell.

Everything plummeted. The ground came rushing up at her.

She fell, but she knew no pain. Someone caught her. A warm, solid presence smelling of gunpowder and diner coffee. Frank.

She awoke, and sure enough, a part of that dream had come true. Frank. Holding her against him, chest rising with the soft breath of a good night’s sleep. Her fingers were curled in the fabric of his black shirt. A strand of her hair had gotten stuck to his shoulder.

She reached up to remove it, fingers trembling, and then…

Then…

The door opened.

Frank was awake in an instant, shooting up from the couch like a bullet from one of his guns. His arms tightened protectively around her, ready to shield her from whatever danger had appeared on her doorstep.

Dark corners. She scrambled for the TV remote again. Frank refused to let her go. His breath was hot against her ear.

“Karen?” Said a voice.

Her stomach dropped.

It was Matt.


End file.
